


Sherlock Holmes and The Very, Very Not Good Cold

by killajokejosie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Doctor John Watson, F/M, M/M, Problems, Sick John, Sick Sherlock, Sore throat, Worried John, stupid stupid stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:53:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killajokejosie/pseuds/killajokejosie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is sick, but doesn't want to admit it, and he falls asleep only to be greeted by John who is hell bent on making him better. It was normal, friends do that, but John has a pull that makes no sense and he certainly isn't about to leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Holmes and The Very, Very Not Good Cold

**Author's Note:**

> I'm American, I am bored, and I have no beta. I apologize in advance for any issues that causes.

"Ow..." Sherlock mumbled, hating that it was the third day in a row that his throat was sore. The difference was that now the pain was more widespread and was not all that far off from what he imagined swallowing a razor blade was like. Not that he ever planned to swallow one. 

He wasn't exactly sure why he was suffering. He alternated between water and tea, washed his hands, and typically avoided people in general. Yet, here he was, in the midst of a cough heavy distruption on his thoughts and he would not even consider that he might have been sick.

He never intended to sleep through nine phone calls, thirty text messages, and one landlady's shouts, otherwise known as thirteen and a half hours.

He would have slept longer had John not shook him awake. "Do you have any idea how worried everyone is about you?

Sherlock forced his tired eyes open and turned to face the doctor. "What?" His voice was raspy from too much sleep and the overall condition of his throat.

"You sound terrible, what's wrong?" John asked with the back of his hand against the ill consulting detective's forehead. "And you are really hot."

Sherlock coughed. He sat up and swalloed hard, the razor blade feeling still definitely there.

"Are you sick, Sherlock?"

"Of course not, John," He moaned, dropping back down onto the mattress he currently loved.

"I am a doctor, not a fool. I can tell when you are lying and I can certainly tell when you are sick."

"I am not sick. I am Sherlock Holmes. I do not get sick." 

"Why are you wincing everytime that you swallow? Why are you coughing? Your nose also appears to be draining." John placed his hands on Sherlock's neck, lightly pushing on all of the right places. "Your lymph nodes are swollen to all hell, too. Sherlock, sit up and open your mouth."

Sherlock laughed lightly, stopping when it caused him to cough even more. He reached up to rub his throat, only confirming John's previous suspicions.

"Open," John said again. 

He opened his mouth and allowed John to look down into his throat. When a finger slid down to push his tongue down further he began coughing again, right in the doctor's face. His throat could not have been anymore raw.

"John," Sherlock croaked. 

"Yes?"

"I am sick, John," He mumbled.

"I know that much, Sherlock,"

John fluffed the pillow behind his best friend. He went into the kitchen and prepared them both some tea. While he stood, waiting for the water to boil his phone buzzed, twice. 

The first message was from Mary:

**Is Sherlock Okay?**

Instead of just replying to his wife he created a mass message to send to all of those who would be curious. 

**Sherlock is fine. Has a bad cold. Should be better in a few days. -JW**

The other message was from Sherlock being impatient. That one didn't matter. The message he sent would hopefully take care of things. Especially considering the fact that he left his mobile on the counter, on purpose.

He returned to Sherlock who gave him a weak smile. "John, how long do you plan on staying here with me?"

"A couple of hours. Just to make sure that your symptoms don't get any worse, make sure that you are drinking plenty of fluids. All of that good stuff." John laughed.

Sherlock took the cup and sipped from it slowly, knowing exactly how bad it would feel everytime he swallowed. "I do not deserve you,"

"Damn right, you big git! Ya know what else? You are starting vitamin supplements or something today. I will send Mrs. Hudson to fetch them later."

The slightly delusional detective reached out and patted John on the head. "C'mere, John,"

John moved into the spot Sherlock designated for him on the bed. He didn't even flinch when a long arm wrapped around him. He was even okay with the mop of fever drenched curls leaning against his head. 

"I don't deserve you," John whispered.

"Mm?"

"I may or may not have been a dick to you in the past..."

"You were,"

"I didn't even tell you what for,"

"Eh, I'm not all that interested,"

John looked up at Sherlock and rolled his eyes. His friend appeared to be on the cusp of falling asleep again. When he looked down at John he gave a weak attempt of an happy expression. John grabbed his chin and pulled him into a sweet kiss.

Sherlock was surprised. "What was that about?"

"Go to sleep. Don't talk about it."

***

John woke up, hand against his throat. "Ow..."

Sherlock walked in with morning tea. He was still not feeling one hundred percent, but it was the least that he could do for the man in his bed.

"Good morning,"

"You got me sick," John croaked.

Sherlock sat down beside him and presented him with a mug. "You kissed me, your tongue was down my throat, therefore you got yourself sick. You are the doctor, make sense of it."

"Ha! Now, I am starting to understand why people say that nothing good can come from sleeping with Sherlock Holmes."

"We slept beside each other, John," The phone in Sherlock's pocket buzzed. He pulled it out and handed it to John. "Mary is worried about you..."

"Oh right, Mary...oh my god...Mary...what am I going to tell her?"

"Nothing,"

"Doesn't work that way, Sickyboy,"

"Why not?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Number one, I am sick. Number two, I love you."

"You...love me? Oh my, that does provide a problem."

"Yes, it does. Hm. See what you do?"

"I really do not see how this is my fault, John,"

"You just had to get sick...didn't you..."

The two men laughed. They shared another kiss, not needing to worry about germs anymore. 


End file.
